


And So All My Dreams Will End

by Just_Another_Mystery



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Autistic Will, Depression, Hannibal Loves Will, Kind of OOC Will, M/M, Manipulative Hannibal, Mentioned Cannibalism, Prison, Regret, Romance, Sad Will, Season 1 Finale Spoilers, Season 2 spoilers (kind of), Suicide, Will Graham's Dogs - Freeform, sad Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 14:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10968840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Another_Mystery/pseuds/Just_Another_Mystery
Summary: Hannibal Lecter has made a plan for everyone and everything in his life. He makes contingency plans for everything. There are of course, always variables. Will Graham has served to be the most interesting one yet.However he thinks he may have made a mistake in this one.In other words, Hannibal was so caught up making everyone else believe Will killed Abigail, he didn't think Will would believe it as well.





	And So All My Dreams Will End

Hannibal Lecter has a plan for everything, every person he encounters, he thinks of ways to use them to his advantage, most are just more meat. Alana, useful at least sexually, Jack to be kept alive at least until he runs out of uses. (Pitiful, the man is amusing in his incompetence). Most are brief, he figures out what to do with a person, they become rather dull. Except for Will Graham. 

Will Graham was _ fun _ . Even after his decision (although there were many things he thought to do with Will, prison seemed to benefit him the most), Will did not become dull, he continued to surprise him with the crimes he put together, how such a brilliant mind could be used. He’d make an excellent serial killer. And so Hannibal thought to fashion him into one. 

The evidence was easy to provide and he didn’t even have to kill Abigail. It was luck (luck and his own crafting of Will’s trust) that Will called him first after vomiting an ear into his sink. And he had to play the horrified friend, the one to call Jack Crawford. But there was a look in Will’s eyes that he hadn’t been expected, a soft sad look in those blue eyes and he realized; 

_ He thinks he killed Abigail Hobbs.  _

It is work to keep the smug smile off his face, never had he imagined that his plan would convince Will himself. This might be the best plan he’s ever had and that is what Will deserves. 

Will pleads not guilty but only at the insistence of Alana Bloom and briefly Hannibal himself. 

“There’s no evidence saying I didn’t kill her.” Will says softly. 

“You adored Abigail.” Hannibal says trying to inflict the right tone but he’s not sure if he’s got it right, Alana and Will won’t notice but someone might. He can’t quite help it, something about Will’s countenance unsettles him. 

“Like her father did?” 

“Please, Will.” Alana begs and he gives her a soft look and concedes to her request. 

It bothers Hannibal more and more, that soft look in Will’s blue eyes. When he visits Will smiles at him and calls him “Hannibal”. There is no anger in him just a quiet acceptance of his fate in the one place he was so terrified of ending up. 

It should make Hannibal overjoyed, he’s destroyed Will, it should be easy to turn him into whatever he’d like. 

He’s almost insulted by his own reaction by Will’s reaction. It makes him want to scream, he sees Will’s sad smiles and wants to shake him, tell him to get angry, to blame someone, to blame Hannibal, to scream that he had never killed anyone that no one found the body of Abigail Hobbs, to cry and rage at every friend who doesn’t believe him. Who doesn’t believe in him. 

It is Hannibal’s design, to isolate him, to ensure that there is little possibility in anyone’s mind that Will didn’t killed Abigail. But he finds himself sneering at them, disgusted that they so easily abandon him. Beverly Katz is not the first to die, but he kills her because she walked into that prison and dared to ask him for help in a case for nothing in return. Will believes he killed Abigail and everyone else believes it too. 

It’s the final fruition of his great plan. It makes him sick. 

There’s a riot in the prison the day before his first court date. Will was not involved but there’s a scratch on his face and a bruise on his wrist. Hannibal can think of only strangling Doctor Chilton’s scrawny little neck. It is his job to care for the inmates, is it not?

There’s something wrong in the hearing. Will is not suppose to talk, and he doesn’t but he seems distracted, twirling his fingers, looking out the window, not looking in anyone’s general direction. Avoiding eye contact is normal for him but he’s not even looking at the lawyer when he’s talking to him, it’s like he’s not there at all. Even his lawyer is speaking softly. Something is wrong. 

* * *

_ There’s warm light coming in from the window and as he sits up, he’s in a large bed different from his own, in a room decorated splendidly. From the window he can see the streets of France. _

_ “You’re awake,” A voice laughs at him and it’s Abigail smiling. He sits up to see her.  _

_ “Abigail?”  _

_ “Will’s in the living room, sitting by the window. Again.” She rolls her eyes and there’s a lightness to them that Hannibal’s never seen before. “I’m going to class. I’m late already.”  _

_ She leaves and he stands from the bed and walks to the next room. There, sitting with his legs bent and his back hunched over is Will Graham. There’s sunlight coming in from the window, in front of him, bathing him in warmth and making him look radiant.  _

_ “Will?” He tests out in the air, expecting him to vanish. The man turns around and grins at him. It’s not the sad smile he often gives. This is warm and bright, encompassing his whole face and such a relief to see. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed seeing Will happy.  _

He wakes up in the bed that is too big and the house that is too much, back in Baltimore before hearing what Will in his head was going to say to him.

* * *

 

When he visit Will next all he can see is the smile from his dream, the bright one, the one that this Will does not have and in this state may never have again. And it’s Hannibal’s fault, he took that happiness from him and now, he misses it, it’s only fair to give it back. He senses a plan growing in his head and he’ll have to sort out the details. Quickly, before this Will can get hurt any more.

* * *

 

_ They’re walking through the streets of France together. Will’s arm is entwined with his and his easy smile is contagious as  _ _ they shiver in the cold.  _

_ “I invited Abigail, but she has class.” Will says conversationally and purses his lips. “That one.” He says gesturing to a big man far along the street. They’ve never seen him before. A perfect stranger.  _

_ “You want me to kill him?” He asks gently in a whisper and Will smiles.  _

_ “I want you to cook him. I can kill him myself.”  _

_ There’s something in Will’s eyes that he wants to destroy, it’s far too close to the Will Graham that is imprisoned in Baltimore and he wants it gone. He wants every memory of that place gone from this Will.  _

_ “Does it upset you?” He asks, “The cooking.”  _

_ Will has a sad look on his face but he is not looking at Hannibal, off into the distance like some great weight is upon him. He still holds on to Hannibal’s arms. “Not the cooking.” He says. “But that you could hurt me or Abigail at any time.”  _

_ “I won’t.” Hannibal responds but the way Will is looking at him, he thinks that even this imaginary dream Will knows that is a lie, that in fact he’s already hurt both of them and in the quiet peace of this dream world, he can admit that for all the plans he’s made and loop-holes he’s gotten out of, this time, he’s not sure if he can fix what he’s done. _

* * *

 

He wakes up intent to visit Will and when he does the man smiles at him but his blue eyes are red rimmed and Hannibal makes a decision. He is going to fix this. 

“Hannibal,” Will says, “I wanted to thank you, for being my friend.” 

There’s a deep clawing going through his chest and a burning behind his eyes but he smiles and says; “Will Graham, I will be there for you in every life you lead.” 

There’s a real smile on Will’s face, brittle and soft but it’s there and although Hannibal doesn’t know it yet Will’s made a decision too.

* * *

 

It is later, much later that he thinks back on what he said to Will, the real Will, not a dream of what he could have been that he hopes, for the sake of Will Graham’s very being and Hannibal’s own immortal soul that should either of them be granted another life with the realm of each others, that the two will never cross paths. 

He knows, now, neither of them could survive the suffering again. 

* * *

_ Will’s shirt is covered in blood as Hannibal takes it off him, he’s smiling up at the doctor and leaning into him. Hannibal leans in to kiss him. He leads Will to the bed they share in France and takes off both their clothes.  _

_ Sex has always been a violent thing. How hard can he thrust? How deep can he leave bruises? How fast can he make his partner gasp for breath and moan just for him? It’s a violent dance and it’s played often, by people who are going to be on the end of his cutlery. At least he can give his meat one last pleasure in life.  _

_ Will Graham is not meat. Not once did he intend on eating Will. As he leads him down onto the bed, he kisses across his neck and shoulders and mouth. He opens him up slowly and calms the moans and whines that rise from Will. He thrusts into him with purpose and every time certain that Will feels no pain. He kisses away the tears on his face, from his overloaded sense and makes him climax.  _

_ This is not a violence, this is a worship. And it is only for Will. As Will Graham is the one and only man that he has ever and will ever love.  _

* * *

Hannibal Lecter wakes up with water on his face, drying along his cheekbones. That hasn’t happened since the aftermath of Mischa’s death and the horror along with it. He gets to work planting the evidence that will lead away from Will. It’s more than enough to make Will look like he had been framed. It takes him all day and he’s unsurprised but there’s an itch underneath his skin that unsettles him. He would try to work faster but it would make him sloppy, it wouldn’t look real enough. 

It’s two days before he can go visit Will and he intends to do it with a smile on his face. He’s not going to tell him, how could he? It will be a surprise the best one he’s ever gotten. But when he goes there, the clerk who always lets him in, frowns and says. “I’m sorry Mr. Lecter” 

He knows something is wrong.

* * *

 

Will Graham was found dead in his room by the lines drawn on his wrists with a knife. A nurse, Matthew Brown, a  _ fan  _ of his asked if he had wanted anything. When Will asked for a knife, Matthew assumed he was plotting a grand escape. He took the knife to his own skin and took his life. A day after his death, the F.B.I discovered enough evidence to clear him of all charges. Will Graham died an innocent man. 

Hannibal has heard ringing in his ears since he heard the words, 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Lecter.” 

“Mr. Graham was found dead in his cell this morning. It seems he committed suicide.” 

_ Dead. Cell. Suicide.  _

Will didn’t even have the pleasure of dying in his home. Jack, Alana, Zeller, Bella, they’ve been in and out all day. He’s at the Jack’s office, someone’s brought him here, they’ve left him alone in his grief. Alana and Jack are talking about him in the corner when his hearing returns. 

“I’ve never seen him act like this.” Jack says his voice in a hush. 

Alana gives a little sigh. Her voice is quieter but with his senses so heightened he hears everything. “I think they may have been closer than Will was letting on.” 

Hannibal lets out a breath.  _ If only.  _ If only he had realized his affection before, if only he had been faster, worked quicker, not put him in there in the first place. 

“No,” He says and Jack and Alana snap to look at him. “It wasn’t Will.  _ He _ wasn’t hiding anything.” 

Alana bites her lip. “I’m so sorry, Hannibal.” 

He shakes his head. He wants no one’s apologizes. Nothing will ever fix this. He stands and walks to the car that someone drove to Jack’s office for him. He would write them a thank you note any other time. He’s not going to. 

He goes straight home with the intent to move his plans along. There’s a lawyer that is healthy in body but corrupt in soul. He wouldn’t mind eating her but as he looks through his recipes, none appeal to him. Even the thought of murdering her doesn’t bring him any joy or amusement. It doesn’t bring him anything at all, Will is dead. There is no point, if Will is dead. 

There is a point of injustice. Will deserved to die as he lived, a great human with a curious mind and although it hurt him to do so with one word from a friend, he caught serial killers, he saved people and so he continued. He deserved a beautiful death, one as unique and interesting as he was. One that would not cause him pain and one that would allow him to be remembered. His death should have been a tragedy not just a loss and above all designed by Hannibal himself, much like his life was from the moment he meet the doctor. 

Suicide was an insult to Will, to his memory. He deserved so much more. And if Hannibal gave him nothing but pain in life, perhaps he can give him something in death.

* * *

 

Will’s body is easy to get to and he’s annoyed by the men and women charged with protecting the bodies in the funeral home. At least one body so much more precious than the living guards will ever be. So he kills them. 

Everyone working in the Baltimore State Funeral Home, has their neck snapped that night by a european man, with a lot of charm and a haunted look on his face. He washes his hands before he lifts Will’s body into his arms. Wraps him into his cloak and put his body in his car. 

He drives until he reaches Virginia and Will’s home that he so loved. The door is locked but it’s easy to break and there are no dogs. The seven dogs that Will made into his pack are now Alana’s. He imagines she could not bring herself to go back to his home after his death and proven innocence. Good, he was thorough in framing Will but someone should have believed, he thought that she of all people would stay by his side. 

He moves everything out of the room. A big open space, he lays down a white sheet on the floor. It takes two sheets for the floor to be completely covered, but it has to be perfect. He has to do this for Will. The last thing he will ever do for him. He doesn’t wear the plastic suit. He doesn’t even wear gloves. He doesn’t want there to be a single doubt that he is the one who did this. Besides after this, he will give up his freedom, his life. It’s not repenting. He can never repent for what he’s done but it’s a start. 

He places Will’s body in the middle of the floor. Folds his hands onto his stomach as if he is in a coffin. Peaceful in his death. Hannibal finds pictures of seven dogs and puts them around his body, angled to be sure anyone who walks in could see all of them. He puts Winston by Will’s head as he was the man’s favorite and the most loyal. He would not be surprised if Winston comes back looking for Will. 

He puts fishing equipment around Will, little models of boats. He intends to put everything that Will ever loved with him, everything that made him, Will. At least he can pretend this was Will’s final resting place instead of a cell, with nothing of his own and while everyone had abandoned him. 

He puts up two flags behind Will’s body. An autism flag for Will’s amazing empathy disorder and a clean white flag to proclaim his innocence and surrender to the evidence even though every part of that evidence was fabricated against him. Hannibal wishes someone had noticed. If not the framing, then the depression, the idiot they hired who gave Will a weapon. Anything at all about him. But no, once in the prison, he was stuffed away as if he no longer existed, visited the most by the man who put him there. 

He puts pictures of Will and his friends all around. Will smiling with Jack and Bella. Will and Alana smiling outside at some picnic. Will and Beverly smiling as Beverly jumps on his back. Will, Zeller and Price, with their arms around each other. Will and Jack, with Jack’s hand on Will’s shoulder. Next to it a picture of a younger Will on a fishing boat, with who Hannibal can only assume is his father. There’s another picture, just one, it’s of him and Will smiling at each other, he had invited him to a dinner party and Alana had made Will go. They were drinking wine and smiling at each other when the camera went off. 

He thinks about putting the picture amongst this collage of Will’s life. It is his art, his to decide, his “design” as Will so liked to put it. He had such a big part in the last of Will’s life but it is by his design that Will Graham is dead. He does not deserve to have a place in what he intends to be Will’s collage. 

If only he could take out his influence in Will’s life as easily as a collage. There is a final touch and it is all Hannibal’s. Truthfully he has no idea how the real Will Graham felt towards flowers (he should have asked) but in a recent dream of their adventures in France, Abigail had made a floor crown and Will had been delighted. He hopes that is enough. 

Hannibal decorates every inch of the floor with flowers. They are around Will’s body and every picture frame. (They had to be in frames, it had to be absolutely perfect). Every flower was picked careful, white heathers for protection in Will’s death. Purple Hyacinth for a sorrowful apology, although there is no forgiving Hannibal, not for this. Red roses for passionate love, though Hannibal is clearly not the excellent lover he thought he was. 

He finishes just as the sun is rising and he stands in the doorway to stare at Will’s body. This is the only apology he has ever given and it is his last act as the man he is now. 

He dials Jack’s number into his phone. “Hello,” 

“Hannibal?” He groans and there’s a shuffling noise on the other end of the line. “ It’s five a.m. Is something wrong?” 

“Will is dead.” Hannibal says and that thought has been racing around his head for hours. He’s not sure how much his mind will ever be able to stray from that reality.

“I know, Hannibal.” He pauses. The man is incompetent even in this. “Is this a grief thing? You see a psychiatrist, yourself don’t you? Why aren’t you calling her?” 

Hannibal lets out a little huff. “This is a confession, Jack. I am the Chesapeake Ripper. I killed Miriam Lass and countless others. I killed and I ate parts of their bodies.  I framed Will Graham and I am the reason he is dead.” 

Jack is quiet for several moments and then says. “Is this some sort of misplaced guilt about what happened to Will? Because it wasn’t your fault, Hannibal.” 

Hannibal isn’t sure if he wants to laugh or cry. The man gets a bit of evidence for Will who he is putting in danger every time Jack called him and he’s ready to put him in jail for the rest of his life. But he gets a recorded confession from the serial killer he’s been looking for, for years and he’s ready to jump to his defence. 

“I am the Ripper. I cut off Abigail Hobbs’ ear and I put it down Will’s throat. I had been drugging him since he started therapy with me. Abigail isn’t even dead. You can find her at this address Jack.” 

“And where will we find you?”

“Will’s home.” 

He is sitting with his legs crossed and staring at the collage of Will, when the FBI shows up. He hears someone gasp at the sight as they take his arms and handcuff his wrists. He hears fragments of conversation as he zones out to the woman reading him his Miranda Rights. 

“I think we’ve got our guy Jack.” 

“What’s with all the flowers?” 

“Someone was in love.” 

* * *

He is sentenced to life in prison, the same one Will died in. He should have been sentenced to death but he pleaded guilty and his lawyer used the case of Will’s collage to prove that if he had remorse then he could be rehabilitated. He thinks everyone in the courtroom knew that was a lie. While in prison, everyone visits him. It makes him hate them all just a little bit more, for how much attention they give him, when Will was left on his own. Left there for him to die, so easily. He hopes it’s the guilt of Will’s suicide that makes them visit him. Nothing would be more poetic.

 

They all come in with questions, not to ask for his wellbeing. He’s glad for it. He likes to see their pain as they get their answers. The things they couldn’t put together themselves, he willingly shines light upon. He wants no part left confused. Although their ultimate failure to safe Will is the heart of his hatred for them, Will adored them in life and death and that alone is enough to put up with them. He will make them as happy as he can, if only for the sake of Will’s memory. 

 

“Why did you give yourself up?” Jack asks him and Hannibal raises his eyebrows. “You orchestrated Will’s crimes. You could have easily made someone else look like the Chesapeake Ripper. Or continued, you know we were nowhere near catching you and without Will, we had nothing.” 

 

Hannibal nods. “Will Graham died. There was no point to kill or eat anyone without him.” He pauses. “I lost my muse.” 

 

“You killed people before you meet Will. You didn’t need a reason. Why stop?” 

 

Hannibal looked at him considering. “I killed before I met Will because I could. I ate them because I liked the taste. And then I met Will and he was charming in his way and he could understand me, killing was suddenly fun. Planning around him, even more so. Having a muse made life so much more worth living. I imagine you felt the same after meeting your Bella.” 

 

“Don’t compare me to you, Hannibal.” 

“Love is love, is it not Jack?” 

“You were not in love with Will Graham. You are the reason he is dead.” 

“That is a reality I must live with. Losing him was like losing a piece of me. There was no joy in killing. No amusement in designing recipes, only the memories of his smiles. And I would lose motivation with the thought that I would never see it again.” 

“You put pictures around him. Why?” 

“I put the things around him that he loved. That loved him.” 

“You said you loved him. Why wasn’t there a picture of you in that crime scene?” 

“Crime scene?” 

“You stole his body and broke into his old house. Answer my question.” 

Hannibal nodded. “You said it yourself, I am the reason he is dead. I do not deserve to be among the things I laid him to rest with. I imagine you noticed the flowers?” 

“Yes.” Jack said and their conversation came to an end.

* * *

 

When Alana Bloom comes it’s obvious she’s been crying but Hannibal is a gentleman at least when it conveniences him and he doesn’t mention it. 

“Why did you frame him?” She asks. “You did all of this just because he died. But you framed him. What did you want to happen?” 

He looks down, contemplating. It’s been so long since he thought of his original plan. “I wanted to break Will’s mind. I wanted to shatter his mind and rebuild it into my own design.” 

“You succeeded didn’t you? He killed himself because of you.” 

“That was not my intention. I wanted to turn Will into someone more like me.” 

“A cannibal?” 

“A murderer at the very least. Although I would not have objected to sharing meals with Will. I wanted Will to be my partner in all things.” 

“And what? You thought it was the best option to put him in prison?” 

“I wanted to isolate him. Make him doubt everyone and everything. I did not think that he would doubt himself to the extent he did.” 

“Which drove him to kill himself.” 

“Eventually. When I realized that I may have done too much, I set another plan in motion, I intended to be the reason Will was released from prisoner, to be seen as his savior in his release.” 

“Didn’t go the way you planned did it?” Alana asks and there’s a bite to her tone that had never been there before Will died. He would not be surprised if Alana hated him, now. 

“I was too late to clear his name. I underestimated the extent of Will’s situation in prisoner.” 

“I hope you are a bit more understanding, now that you are in it.” 

“As do I.” 

The woman snarls at him before leaving and they both know she was crying. He receives no more visits from either Alana or Jack. 

* * *

He goes to sessions with Frederick Chilton and it’s odd, with this new life he has, where he does not manipulate people. He’s given it up as much as he can but it makes him smile to see how uncomfortable Chilton is around him. Their sessions are mostly useless. Chilton does not believe he can be rehabilitated and neither does Hannibal himself.

Freddie Lounds writes an article on Tattle Crime. She entitles it; “The Chesapeake Ripper; A Murderer in Love.” 

He never reads the article but the title makes him smile occasionally. He likes that the majority of his story is entwined with Will. He did not deserve that kindness and he doubts that Freddie intended it to be a kindness, she wanted it to be a taunt to him. The Chesapeake Ripper brought down to his knees by a fisherman with an empathy disorder and too many dogs.

* * *

 

Hannibal Lecter’s days in prisoner are rather dull. Other inmates are frightened of him and they leave him alone. His nights are the highlight of his new home, he hopes they had been for Will as well but it is more likely that he relived nightmares of a crime he did not commit. 

Hannibal’s dreams are of Will. 

The man stands in an apartment in France, smiling at Hannibal. 

They spend a day fishing with Abigail. Will smiles and says he names the lure Hannibal.

Will and Hannibal have a picnic. When Will frowns and asks him what’s in the food he tells him it isn’t people and he’s not lying. 

It’s in Hannibal’s dreams that he can live the life he wished he realized he wanted with Will, when the man was still alive. Maybe he could have achieved it. Maybe Will would have wanted it just as much. 

_ The last dream he has of Will is not a pleasant one.  _

_ He’s standing in a dark forest with a child on his hip, a little girl. He assumes it’s Abigail as she takes on the role of their daughter in most dreams. His back is turned to Hannibal and he appears to be shaking.  _

_ Hannibal reaches for his shoulder and Will lets out a little breath and turns to face him. The child on his hips is not Abigail as he had thought, but Mischa, his own dead little sister. Her eyes are glassy and she’s not holding onto Will.  _

_ Hannibal turns to look at Will. His shoulders are shaking and there are tears running down his face. Soft hiccups to cover any sobs and it strikes Hannibal through his heart to see him like this but he can’t bring himself to touch him. He watches as cuts open up on Will’s arms and drip blood onto the dark forest.  _

_ “Why, Hannibal?” He asks and he sounds so heartbroken that it hurts Hannibal. Makes him want to offer Will the world on a platter, anything he wanted. _

He wakes up for the first time in three years to tears on his face.

* * *

 

That whole week, he does not dream and on the eighth day an inmate sets the prisoner on fire. The staff is scrambling to find everyone, they are more concerned about getting them out of danger then keeping them in prisoners. Hannibal is considered a high risk of escape, they are likely to come after him soon. He locks the doors to his cell and sits on the bed. 

  
He thinks of every culture that considers fire to be the worst kind of death. He hopes Will subscribed to that notion but highly doubts it, with how many people he’d seen die. It is only fitting for Hannibal to die like that. Hannibal Lecter is the one and only victim of the fire at Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, in the same room, Will Graham died three years earlier. 

**Author's Note:**

> This stemmed from my want for Hannibal to feel bad about himself.  
> I'm unclear of how funeral homes work (I assumed they have to have guards because of grave robbers?)  
> I don't know what prisons actually do in case of fires.  
> Some of the characters might be a bit OOC which I'm going to attest to different situations, Alana's not as dark because she's never been thrown out a window. Will doesn't ask for Beverly's help because he doesn't think he's innocent.  
> SEASON THREE SPOILER: I know Hannibal was not in the same room of prison as Will was but this seemed more poetic.  
> All my information on the floors came from this site: http://aggie-horticulture.tamu.edu/archives/parsons/publications/flowers/flowers.html


End file.
